Man of Passion
by Pampers Baby Dry
Summary: man on fire John Creasy, never died, and Daniel Sanchez wasn't killed. Pita is kidnapped agian, all to get Creasy to comply to Sanchez demands, what the hell was the mexican thinking kidnapping Pita, Creasy is on the prowl, Daniel Sanchez had best.....
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

……… _John Creasy breathed ruggedly as his hand gripped the cold metal of the necklace Pita had given him. He allowed himself a small smile. She had done wonders on him with out even being aware that she did anything. For once in a long time he felt free. The searing pain of all three bullet wounds on his torso bleed steadily, he could feel himself growing cold. He winced from the setting sun that came through the window, before he glanced around, the kidnappers stared at him, un-healthy gleams in there eyes. He closed his eyes, his heartbeat slowing, and his breathing diminishing. He could feel his joints loosen, his fingers growing limp around the necklace. He was dieing, he knew this, and for once in a long time he was dieing because he had no choice, he wasn't trying to commit suicide anymore, if he had a choice he would live and still be Pita's best friend and body guard. Screw everything else he had said in the very beginning, from the moment he became the little girl's bodyguard to the moment he got her back. She found a place in his heart; her place warmed him, made his soul grave to live. She gave him a second chance, and she thanked him. It was true, he may not have said it, but every action could tell that he loved her too. She was his friend, the first of many he was proud to have. His mind was fogging. He could see her smile, the tears of happiness in her eyes when she had hugged him after the exchange. She had lightened his day; she brought light to even this tragic end. There was a sharp sting in his cheek, he barely felt it. He cracked his eyes open, the world around him fading in and out, meshing together like oil paints. _

"_Tsk, tsk. Stay awake Creasy, can't have you dieing on me now" said the man in front of him. He squinted. He could feel the rage beneath the surface of his skin; it was caged like a wild animal. The Voice. Daniel Sanchez. Creasy had no idea what he was going on about; didn't he say a life for a life, why are they having him live now?_

"_Wha…." he whispered his head lolling to the side resting against the window. A low dry chuckle came from Sanchez, his brother Aurelio Sanchez huddled against the other door holding a cloth to his bleeding fingers. Creasy didn't feel any remorse for what he had done to the man. He disserved it. _

"_You do business, really well Creasy" he said placing a cigarette against his thin chapped lips. He breathed in deep, held it for a moment, before slowly exhaling. He looked at it, flicked it, and then rested it between his lips. He smirked at Creasy, a dieing man, who in his opinion was very good at what he does. "Here is a proposal, we let you live, you go on with life, and when we need you, we will call you, no questions asked, you do or you die" he said his hand flipping the cap of a lighter, it clanked with each flick of his finger and thumb. Creasy grunted, he wheezed, pain laced the length of his chest. _

"_No…" he whispered his head shaking from side to side. Daniel Sanchez laughed; he reached over and gently patted the black man's cheek. His eyes hardened and his voice becoming laced with venom. _

"_You're not being given a choice" he said he lifted his hand up and snapped his fingers. The car stopped abruptly, Creasy pitched forward. He gasped. His eyes squeezing closed. Pain, there was so much pain. But all of it welcome, because of this pain he had gotten Pita back. At least he tried, and succeeded far better then the Mexican police. _

"_Marco, lo lleva al hospital, se cerciora de que le toman cuidado de." The nodded his eyes looking at Sanchez through the rear view mirror. Daniel Sanchez stepped out of the car, his friends following behind him. He turned back towards the professional. _

"_Remember Creasy, when we call, you do" he said slamming the car door. Creasy frowned. What? Call? Do? He couldn't think. His vision blurred and black spots danced across his eyes., the last thing he saw was the looming sign of the hospital before his world grew dark and quite……_

**Chapter 1**

_**8 years later**_

John Creasy didn't much remember how he survived, he should have died right? Three gun shot wounds to the abdomen and both at his lungs, he should be six feet under. He took a sip from the corona sitting beside him. He watched as his neighbours mowed the lawn, chatting with each other like there was no evil in the world. At one point they had tried to engage him in such silly conversations of anything ranging from religion to carpentry. His hand gripped the necklace Pita had given him, not once in eight years did he take it off. It reminded him of the little girl who had freed his soul. He wondered how she was doing; now being eighteen and everything. He wondered if she stuck to swimming and dropped piano. He wondered how many poor boys hearts have been broken by her beauty. Ahh, he may not have seen her in eight years, but back then he knew she would grow into a beautiful young woman. Sighing he heaved himself from the chair, his beer hanging lazily in one hand.

"John!" came the shrill voice of a woman in her late thirties, Creasy sighed. Marietta Roselyn. A tall woman, white skin, blonde hair, almond blue eyes. She was pretty, he would giver her that, but she was just not his thing. She was interested in a relationship, and frankly Creasy didn't want to tie himself to anyone. He didn't even do casual sex. That's right John Creasy has been celibate for eight years. He looked, but not once did he touch. For some unforeseen reason, it didn't appeal to him. He turned a face half smile at the woman standing on her roof waving like a raving mad woman.

"Marietta" he said waving his hand lazily. She half glared.

"How many times have I told you to call me Marie?" she said. Creasy sighed, oh he knew all right. More then a hundred times, and she was gonna have to continue to remind him because he wasn't calling her anything but Marietta or Roselyn.

"Sorry" he said, she shrugged it off like it was nothing before grinning at him. He could see the familiar glint in her eyes as she eyed him up and down.

"No prob. Hey since it's Easter Monday, what do you say you come over for some dinner, and possibly _desert?" _He knew what she meant by desert, she had put an emphasis on it after all. He looked as apologetically as he could muster.

"Sorry, Marietta, but I'm busy tonight, how about some other time?" he asked flashing a smile.

"You always say that, what do you do that keeps you so busy?" she asked her hands on her hips. He could see the frustration vibrate through her body, heating her blood. A light blush raced across her skin. He lifted the beer to his lips taking a swig.

"Professional things" he said. She rolled his eyes; he always gave the same damn answer.

"Fine, another time then" she said huffing before turning around and walking back in through her bedroom window. Creasy looked away a smirk tugging at his lips. There would never be another time, not if he had anything to say about it. He limbed in through his study window, he lived in the suburb of New Mexico. The weather was nothing compared to the actual humidity of Mexico, but it came pretty close. Placing the beer bottle on the corner of the desk he walked from the room. His feet drug along the carpet, his eyes darting around the empty walls there were no pictures. There was no on in his life, except there was one lone picture sitting next to his bed on the night table. It was a small wallet sized picture of Pita. He walked into the kitchen, a fan buzzed from its place atop the far counter, a light wind brushed across his face like a lover caress. He pulled the fridge door open, looking for a beer. He grinned wryly at the amber liquid. He had started drinking again after he had gotten out of the hospital, sometimes the Bible just didn't help. As his hand closed around the neck of the bottle, his phone rang. He looked over the fridge door at it, his eyebrow raised. Who the hell knew his number? Truthfully even he had forgotten his number, he hadn't gotten a call in ages. He popped the cap of the bottle taking a drink as he picked up the phone.

"Hello, John Creasy" he said looking around his kitchen. It was bare only holding the essentials.

"Hola Jaun" came the thick Mexican accent. "It's been a long time, eight years I believe" he said. Creasy narrowed his eyes, he knew that voice anywhere.

"Daniel Sanchez" there was a chuckle on the other end.

"Si, le veo recordarme" Creasy snorted.

"You're not a forgettable person, Sanchez" Creasy laughed hollowly. His eyes skimming out the window before landing on the beer in his hand.

"Oh good, then you know why I'm calling" he said. Creasy's brow creased.

"No, why would a bunch of low life kidnappers be calling me?" he said.

"I see you've forgotten our deal John" Sanchez said into the phone. Creasy's eyes narrowed.

"What deal Sanchez" he hissed into the mouth piece.

"The one that saved your life" he said. Creasy looked blankly at his mustard yellow refrigerator. What deal that save his life……

"_Here is a proposal, we let you live, you go on with life, and when we need you, we will call you, no questions asked, you do or you die" he said his hand flipping the cap of a lighter, it clanked with each flick of his finger and thumb. Creasy grunted, he wheezed, pain laced the length of his chest. _

" I didn't agree to the deal!" he hissed, there was a deep chuckle on the other end.

"You didn't have a choice" Daniel Sanchez said as he looked into the deep blue eyes of someone who was very dear to John Creasy, he grinned there were a few teeth missing from his smile.

"You either come play, or someone real close to you will be hurt" he said. Creasy snorted.

"There is no one close to me, Sanchez" he said. There was a pause on the other end.

"Last I checked there was a little girl?" Daniel said he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as If recalling something. Slowly a smile cover his face. "wasn't her name Pita? Yes, she certainly has grown into a beautiful young woman" he said his finger running gently down her cheek, Pita frowned she moved away from Sanchez hand. Creasy, her heart fluttered, wasn't he dead? Creasy paused his eyes wide before they narrowed, the bear bottle in his hand cracked as he fisted his hand.

"Say hi Pita" said Sanchez, Creasy stood silently as he heard shuffling then light breathing. His blood chilled at the weak, scared, yet hopeful voice on the other end.

"Creasy?……." Creasy could feel his eyes mist.

"Pita" he whispered.

"Now John, about our deal" said Sanchez. "You don't comply, and Ms Rosas with be harmed" he whispered. Creasy fisted his hand, he bit his lip in worry. He sighed, knowing what he had to do, no matter how much his mind disagreed, his heart wouldn't let him. Sanchez on his end of the line smiled. "I see we agree then" ……………………

**TBC………………………..**

**A/N: **_I just had to write this okay! I couldn't help it, so Pita is eighteen now, and creasy is I'm gonna say thirty-nine. Blah, I screwed with his age! So sue me! Hope it was okay!! I will continue soon see yha! _

**Pampers Baby Dry**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Rayburn, it's Creasy, I need some help."

Five little words that Creasy despised. He had stared at the phone for hours after Daniel Sanchez called with the most intense glare that could have ever been given birth on his face. Just the thought of his filthy hands touching the sweet innocent girl he could remember. He couldn't really say what she looked like now, since he hadn't made any contact in the last eight years, so in his mind, she was that same little girl who just wanted to be his friend. But in order to ensure that Pita stay unharmed till he could do something about it, he needed just a little hand.

"Creasy?" came the confused voice of his old friend. He smiled grimly, what a reunion.

"Yha Rayburn" he said his eyes scanning his front lawn from the kitchen window, the street lights lit as the skies grew dark. There was a bark of laughter on the other side of the phone.

"Well how have you been?"

"I've been living" he said. "settled down in New Mexico." There was a silence.

"you mean, the Great John Creasy, ceased movement, what a surprise, so what is it I could do for you" came the happy tone. To bad Creasy didn't feel so happy, actually he felt like having a beer, but he hadn't been drinking his worries away like he used too, another point he could hand to Pita. That kid knew how to weave herself into his life.

"I need a favour" he said.

"Anything" came the quick reply, the humour disappeared. Serious. That's what this was. Not a reunion of catching up with old friends. A life hanged in the balance, a very important life to Creasy. Again he could feel that swelling emotion of guilt and regret. He should have never been her bodyguard because then she wouldn't have been kidnapped again. But you can't tell the future from your past, you can only watch and change it as it happens. But he didn't regret meeting Pita. She brought that long awaited silence of peace.

"I need information on the Rosas'" he said. "it's Pita, Daniel Sanchez is at it again."

---

"Creasy don't do anything stupid" Rayburn sighed as he glanced at his wife, who lay snuggled and unaware in the blankets of there king sized bed. It had been great to hear Creasy's voice after so long, not knowing where he went, how he was. It was great to hear he was fine, but that worry and veiled anger in his voice worried him. Emotion's where a complicated business. They gave you the initiative to do something, but they took away that sense of intelligence.

Rayburn was no fool to the emotions Creasy held towards the little Rosas Girl, she was a sweet kid, had grown into a beautiful young woman. He had kept an eye on her the last few years, when ever they would meet she would ask about him and in the end she would be leaving in disappointment. Whatever it couldn't she felt the same thing as Creasy, even if both parties weren't aware of it. He hadn't spoken to her in weeks.

"You know me Rayburn."

"I know" and that didn't sit well with Rayburn. All for this hidden emotion Creasy was harbouring for Pita, hell was going to be raised.

"I need information on a Camilo Rodriguez " Creasy said. Rayburn's eyes narrowed.

"Why"

"I'm keeping her alive, till I have a plan" he didn't like the sound of it.

"What are those bastards making you do Creasy." his wife groaned and he turned and watched as she woke up a smile gracing her face as she sighted him. He gave back a half-hearted grin. Before turning back towards the far wall. He felt her arms snake around his neck, her face burrowing into the crook of his neck, he sighed.

"Nothing but there errand boy, Rayburn, don't think about it" Creasy said distantly. Rayburn sighed again.

"when do you need the information" he asked, it was silent on the other end.

"…within the next six hours"

"yha I can get it" he said leaning back into his wife. She tugged nibbled on his earlobe and tugged. Rayburn turned towards her. She grinned.

"Good."

"Remember Creasy, nothing stupid" he said hanging up. They didn't need to say good-bye, knowing each other for years, they were well in tuned to each others antics. That's why this worried Rayburn. Creasy was nothing if not a passionate man for what he cared for.

"Come on honey, back to bed" whispered his wife. He grinned, it would only take a few hours together the information Creasy seeked. He could have a little fun before he started.

Grinning, he turned and pushed his wife onto the bed, a playful growl sliding past his lips. His wife giggled in that cute way he loved. Yha he could a bit of fun, Creasy's request was pushed far from his mind as he captured his wife's lips.

------

Creasy hung up the phone. He didn't care, he needed a beer. Grabbing a cold one, he walked towards his bedroom and opened the closet. Reaching for the light, he lit the small enclosure his eyes looking for a particular box amongst the dozen he stuffed in there. An old brown box with the thick black felt letters 'Creasy's Professionals' grazed his vision, placing the beer on the ground he heaved the box from his top shelf and placed it on his bed.

Inside was an old bible, one Browning HI-Power 9mm, and a carton of bullets. Grabbing his beer, he sat beside the old box and glanced down at it.

He didn't think he would be seeing these old things again. They would need to be cleaned.

Glancing at the small picture of Pita - that he had to admit, rested on his bedside table- he reached up to finger the necklace she gave him. The only thing he had left.

He'd get her back. At all costs.

TBC…………….

_**A/N: oh, he sounds so dedicated. Finally an update, hope it was okay, please leave a review, see yha. **_

_**Pampers Baby Dry**_


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